


sunday morning and I'm falling

by fuzzbucket



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M, Shameless Smut, Shower Sex, Smut, i promise i will still write things with a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 08:28:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18567634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzbucket/pseuds/fuzzbucket
Summary: It's now okay for Andrew to spend the night, which also means he can spend the morning.





	sunday morning and I'm falling

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh, I never really planned to write anything above an M for this ship, but, sometimes one's sense runs away and the following happens. No character studies or internal monologues here.
> 
> title shamelessly (and shamefully) pilfered from Velvet Underground's "Sunday Morning."

Meredith wakes with a start.

She looks over at the alarm – it’s around seven in the morning. She hears even breathing behind her and realizes Andrew is still there.

They’d talked about it – now that her kids knew, it was okay for him to spend the night occasionally and be there when the kids got up. But it was still weird for her to wake up and have him there. 

She marvels at how much you learn about a person when you wake up next to them. It reminds her of happy memories of when she and Derek had just started dating, and she’d walked into the kitchen to George and Izzie ragging on him for eating healthy cereal for breakfast.

Andrew’s the same way – when he wakes up, he goes for a run, then comes back and makes eggs and cut fruit. Not a “carbs first thing in the morning” kind of guy. He is, however, a morning sex kind of guy, and she really appreciates it.

This is the first time he’s stayed over on a Saturday night, and neither of them are scheduled to go to the hospital today. Zola’s at a sleepover party, Bailey stayed at a friend’s overnight, and Ellis, bless her, loves to sleep.

On the one hand, Meredith hates that her kids are growing up and can do things on their own; on the other hand, she relishes the freedom that comes with it. 

She rolls over and looks at Andrew, who’s sleeping peacefully on his side facing towards her. His hair – normally so neat – is tousled and sticking up all over the place. He’s sleeping in an worn gray t-shirt, his left hand folded under his cheek, his right arm extended across the bed toward her.

She examines him, the hard lines of his body against her bed. His shirt has ridden up on his hip and she sees the divot at the base of his abs – she has _no idea_ how he stays in such good shape, working like he does, but she will never ever complain about it. She thinks about last night, when she brushed her lips over that divot before taking him in her mouth and bringing him to the absolute brink. 

She desperately wants to wake him up, but she would feel tremendously guilty doing so. As a senior resident with a kid, she never got the opportunity to sleep the way he’s getting to right now. She feels like a sex-crazed teenager, and knows that when he _does_ wake up, she’ll probably be able to do whatever she wants; but for right now, she’ll let him sleep.

Meredith, however, will not be sleeping. She’s too turned on and too awake to go back to bed. She rises and quickly checks Ellis’ room – she’s still sleeping. She goes downstairs and sets out the box of Cheerios and a plastic bowl for Ellis, in case she wanders down on her own. She throws a load of laundry in the washing machine and heads back upstairs.

When she gets in her room, Andrew’s still asleep, in the same position. Meredith knows if she gets back into bed, she’ll wake him, so she heads for the shower.

She turns it on, as hot as she can possibly stand it, and stands under the water. She feels like she’s never been more aware of her body, feeling the water roll over her skin and slide downward.

She grabs the soap and begins to lather, her hands sliding over her torso. One drifts upward, toward her breast, and she rolls her nipple between her thumb and forefinger. The sensation is electrifying, and she’s assaulted with memories of last night: of Andrew, head thrown back, hand woven into her hair, with her on her knees in front of him; moving over her, with her hands pinned above her head; behind her, his lips ghosting across her shoulder blades as she moaned into her pillow.

She barely notices her other hand drifting downward, massaging herself. The pressure is exquisite, and Meredith knows she won’t last long. She lets out a long moan, momentarily forgetting that Andrew is asleep.

She hears the bathroom door open, and she chides herself for making noise and snaps back to attention. She peeks out the steamed glass door and sees Andrew standing there, pulling off all his clothes.

“Having fun without me?” His voice is gravelly and low from sleep, and all she wants to do is have him finish what she started. She holds out her hand and pulls him into the shower, lips crashing together as he soaks in the water. His hands drift all over, raking through her hair and skimming down the smooth curve of her hip. She’s surprised when he roughly turns her around and presses her against the glass, one hand anchored to her hip while he guides himself into her.

She cries out – this is exactly what she wanted, this deep, visceral pleasure. Her left hand flails out and comes to rest on the glass; Andrew moves closer and covers her hand with his, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the back of her neck. She turns her head to meet his lips and moans into his mouth. It’s sloppy, and messy, as he begins moving against her.

“God, Andrew,” she moans, drawing out the syllables of his name. Her other hand drifts downward, and she repeats her motions from before. She cries out, the feeling of Andrew inside and all around her becoming all-consuming, and her own hand moves in quick circles around the little bundle of nerves between her thighs. She can see Andrew watching her in the fogged reflection of the glass, and she feels his movements speeding up.

“Meredith,” he groans, clenching his hand around hers against the glass. She feels herself on the verge of splitting apart, and throws her head to the side again, where he meets her lips with his own again. The hand on her hip has drifted to her breast, and he begins rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She moans into his mouth, feeling herself start to lose control.

“Andrew,” she cries, and she’s coming so forcefully that she feels her body physically shaking. She hears Andrew before she feels him, a string of broken Italian leaving his lips as her orgasm pushes him over the edge. 

He slumps against her, and she feels his heart pounding against her back. His hand, splayed across her belly, is the only thing keeping her upright, she’s pretty sure. She feels boneless and weak. She sags against him, feeling his lips trail down her neck.

“Good morning,” he whispers, and she melts at the softness of his voice. Only he could fuck her with abandon against the shower wall, then wish her a good morning.

“Good morning,” she whispers back, lolling her head backward between his neck and shoulder. He reaches over to turn off the water and scoops her up, carrying her out of the bathroom and laying her down on the bed. He lightly flops down next to her, curled into her side, one hand resting on her ribcage below her breast. They lie there for a few minutes, breath evening and hearts slowing.

She looks over at the clock – it’s just past eight. Ellis will be up reasonably soon.

“We should get up,” she says regretfully. Andrew’s eyes open and blink lazily in her direction.

“Mmmm, yeah,” he returns, stroking over her abdomen. Meredith feels desire bubbling up again.

“Andrew,” she scolds, but before she can continue talking, he lifts his head to nibble at her earlobe. She breaks off in a moan and turns toward him, capturing his lips with her own. She rolls him on top of her, fisting a hand in his curls while her hand drifts downward.

“Dr. DeLuca,” she murmurs, “ready again so soon?”

“Always ready for you, Dr. Grey,” he whispers into her ear, nipping at the lobe, and she moans again. She won’t lie – she loves his youth and fitness and ability to please her, over and over again.

He slips into her, and she cries out – she’s still sensitive from before, and she’s sure if he so much as touches her she’ll come again in an instant. He seems to sense this and begins to move slowly, weaving his fingers through hers and pressing her into the bed. Their lips meet, over and over again, much more intimate than in the shower. She opens her eyes to meet his, and she can’t help smiling – he is just so _present_. 

He lets go of one hand and brings it down to where their bodies are joined, and Meredith cries out, again. She throws her head to the side into her pillow, muffling the increasingly loud noises she’s making. When he bows his head to her breast and takes the peak into her mouth, she screams into the pillow, her orgasm rippling through her body at the speed of light.

When the ripples have subsided and she comes back down, she brings her hand to his face and pulls it upward toward her, weaving her hand through his curls. He brings his lips to hers again, and she moans into his mouth. The weight of him on her – the feeling of his legs brushing against hers as he pushes into her – her body is positively buzzing

“Jesus Christ, Andrew, I’m going to come again,” she murmurs. Andrew lets out a low moan.

“ _Fuck_ , Meredith,” and she can tell he’s trying so hard to hang on for her. His hand goes to the back of her knee, and she hooks one ankle over his shoulder. His jaw drops at the new angle, and his other hand reaches between her thighs again.

Meredith watches as he touches her, and she feels her orgasm start to rise again. She takes her breast in her hand and begins to stroke, biting her lip; Andrew’s eyes narrow and she can tell he’s on the verge of losing control.

“Meredith, I can’t – I can’t hold on much longer,” he stutters out, his rhythm becoming erratic.

Meredith is driven wild by his inability to contain himself, and seeing him about to lose control – she’s _thisclose_. His fingers circle her one last time and her mind goes blank and her hips writhe against him and she’s crying out into the pillow, a combination of _Andrew_ and _oh god_ and _holy shit fuck_. She feels Andrew, undone by her orgasm, and hears him moan out her name. Her eyes snap open to see him, slack-jawed and sated, breathing out the last of his energy.

He falls to the bed beside her, and she immediately seeks out his warmth, folding herself into his arms. She tucks her head into his neck and feels his breathing and heart rate begin to slow. She pulls up the blanket and tucks it around him.

“What,” he rasps, “was that about?”

She giggles. “I should ask you the same thing.” She kisses the side of his neck, and his arms wrap around her even tighter.

“Now, I really do need to get up,” she mumbles, almost mournfully.

“But we haven’t even gotten to round three yet,” Andrew mumbles back, eyes still closed.

Meredith sits up and looks at him, splayed out on her bed, completely spent. “I already _had_ round three, thank you very much.”

Andrew cracks open one eye and looks at her. “I thought we agreed, equal opportunity orgasms around here.”

Meredith laughs. “I don’t remember that being in the rules.” She gets up, pulling the covers over him, and throws on a t-shirt and shorts. Andrew makes no move to get out of bed, and she’s happy to keep him there. She heads toward the door and turns back toward the bed. “Andrew?”

“Mmmmmm?” 

“I’ll give you a third round if you promise me a fourth.” She hears him laugh as she shuts the door behind her.


End file.
